ѕтяυggℓє
by Anonymous Dream
Summary: James "Bucky" Barnes survived the great cliff fall; however, lost his arm. While in captivity of Hydra, he meets a former pilot (and now captured) Lynn Viala. During their time in prison, they slowly find that they are each others only sanity in Hydra.
1. Prologue: Only the Memories

**Prologue **

_"So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love." _  
― E.A. Bucchianeri, _Brushstrokes of a Gadfly_

* * *

I watch as Bucky (James Barnes), my soul mate, my love, fight his former best friend and now, mortal enemy and target. His steel arm punches right into the face of Captain America, causing a large boom to echo through the dome. I can't interfere; this is not my fight.

However, a deep pain inside of me nearly thrusts me into him. To my Bucky. To my love. How could he have forgotten me? We were both two humans in a deep curse, known as love... We went through so much together, as a team. How can he forget those times? How?

I never would be able to say.

In my opinion, I always thought love was permanent. Well, in the beginning, I knew it was temporary. However, just recently, I believed in it.

But that was a complete lie.

My metal arm and leg ache for a fight. My wings twitch at the sound of the fight, begging me to fly into it. Eagerly, my head tells me yes, but my heart is smarter, and tells me what would happen if I joined. Even though I know the best, I want to bring Bucky back. I want to show him everything. I want him to remember; even if he doesn't, at least try to search for those glorious memories.

But how would he remember me? Deep in his head, I am a ghost. I am dead. And the rest of him wants me to be gone. I am just a piece of imagination; a fake memory placed into his forgotten mind. I don't like that.

Yes, I did try to talk to him. I tried to tell him that I was here, that I could love him again, and he could do the same. I tried to explain who he was, what his life was like, what happened to him. What happened to me, to Captain America, to the world. I don't know why he wouldn't just _listen_ to me. Maybe if he tried, I could go in there. Maybe if I-

Hell no.

Hell no. I wouldn't be able to bring him back. Life is life, not a storybook. Not a fairytale with a happy ending; at least not for me.

I can't handle that.

I'm a weak soul, not a fighting soul. I used to fight; therefore, that is what brought me to this dreadful place.

For now, while I can, I sit and think. It bugs me that he's struggling, and I know that whatever I do, it's wrong, and it both has the same ending. So, I just wait. I wait until, hopefully, Captain America will bring him to who he once was. Yet, I know that's nearly impossible. From my short memory, I remember he was a stubborn asshole. Yes, that was rude, but it's absolutely true. Honestly, he's worse than an asshole, too. I can't stand it; however, I know that I can't change him. Also, I think it's so damn cute.

As he fights, I swear I can still see, deep in his strong blue eyes, that he has some kindness left of him. Even though he is a ruthless assassin, if you focus (or love him like I do), you can find his valor. His real self.

I just want to bring that back.


	2. Chapter One: Flight to a Fall

**Chapter One: Flight to the Fall **

_"Sometimes it takes a good fall to really know where you stand" _  
― Hayley Williams

* * *

As my plane tumbles through the air, my mouth fills with smoke from the fire from the wing of the plane. Coughing, I let it all out so that I might be able to breath better; however, that just lets more cloud back in. The plane shakes rapidly, causing my stomach to grow insanely sick.

I'm not going to make it.

So, I strap on my parachute, take one last glance at my dead wingman, and pull the button that lets me out of the seat.

When I'm in the air, I look down and spot guns and missiles being shot at me. Luckily, I know how to avoid those, and dart from side-to-side to prevent from being hit. Finally, I hit the ground and I am safer than I was; though, I am still in an enemy bunker.

A bullet races past my ear and it slides against my hair just slightly. I dive to a barrier so I cannot get hit. Luckily, I hear the gunfire hit against the tough steel, and not against my own body.

Pulling out my gun, I take a quick look at who's after me. Two men with heavy machine guns slowly approach. They each have an RPD, which is a strong gun that my father died by long ago. _I won't die like he did,_ I think, readying my pistol between my two hands. _Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any day._ After those reassuring words, I pull out from behind the barrier and shoot. I hit one in the head and the other on the shoulder. The one, hit on the shoulder, is still alive, but in deep pain. So, I shoot him again to make sure he stays dead.

Turning around, I run into two very large soldiers again. One grabs my arms and holds me back, while the other raises his pistol to my head. _What a quick execution,_ I snort, kicking the pistol out of the man's hands. While I still have time, I elbow the man who holds me in the gut, causing him to be stunned in definite pain. I run to get the pistol, but the man I kicked grabs me. He shouts in German, but I can understand it, "We will keep this one!"

"This one won't stop fighting, though," a sack is placed over my head and they dump me on the ground. I try to get up, but one of their boots hold me down.

"Exactly," that is the last word I hear that is actually in English. Then, my mind goes blank when I feel a punch hit me in the head.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm in a dark, creepy medical room. I am strapped to a long chair and in front of me, I see a needle-pointed device aiming straight to my head. It's a few feet away, so I don't worry about hitting my head on it or something. So, I lean up a little, but don't go far, since the straps hold me down.

My head burns as I look around the area. My stomach isn't as bad as it was, but still. My. Head. Hurts.

I wear only a hospital gown, which bothers me. Who changed me? _It better not have been a man,_ I think , rolling my neck around. I listen to the crack sound it makes and smile. _At least my neck isn't broken._

A bright light shines on me only, while the rest of the room is much darker. As I gaze into the light, I hear footsteps and turn my head over to a scientist. He doesn't look at me, but he stares down at his clipboard the entire time. "Name, age, and occupation, please?" He speaks English, but it's hard to understand through his German accent.

I don't reply. I will never give anything away.

Sighing through irritation, he asks again, "Name, age, and occupation, please?"

Again, I keep silent.

Rolling his eyes, he turns around and faces what looks like a black window. He speaks loudly as he says, "Turn on the chair, maybe she'll talk."

Suddenly, an electric shock pours through my body and zaps me. I shake to the abrupt sensation of it and scream. I don't have time to think, but I shout, "Lynn Viala! I'm 21 and I'm in the U.S. Airforce!"

Smiling down, the scientist writes down the information and the electricity slowly stops. "Thank you, that's all I will need to know before the process." He hands me a mouth guard and then walks away. When he enters another room, I hear his voice through the speakers, "I insist you put in that mouth guard, Miss Viala. We don't want you losing your teeth in the process."

Warily, I put in the mouth guard. Then, the needle point approaches me and pushes deep into my flesh. It has an electric feeling like the chair; however, feels much worse. My brain feels like it is malfunctioning, and the torture is almost unbearable.

My screams echo through the dome-like prison. The mouth guard prevents me from losing my teeth, since I clench them against the guard instead of each other.

Then, it stops. I feel different; more powerful, but weaker as well.

What happened to me?


	3. Chapter Two: Escape

**Chapter Two: Escape**

_"You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today."_  
-Abraham Lincoln

* * *

After a few weeks of this torture, I feel like I am part of the chair I sit in. I've only moved out of it once for a body checkup; one for them to see behind my clothes and use x-ray vision to look under my skin. During that, I was very uncomfortable; however, I have to do as I am told, or else.

As I lay in the dark room, sirens ring from the outside. I hear some gunfire, then a giant boom. My eyes widen and I turn my head to look at the door. It shivers from the sounds, and the ground shakes in response. So does my chair, but not as much as the rattling door.

Soon, all the lights turn red. I hear a speaker from the outside, muffled, but understandable, say, "Alert. Alert. Prisoners have escaped the prison. Repeat: Alert. Alert. Prisoners have escaped from the prison." Then, it shuts off and the sirens sound even louder. More gunshots sound, and even rumbling tanks shoot their powerful bullets to the prisoners/guards.

I can tell because I remember one ground war I had to do. My plane blew up, so I had to fight on the ground. It sounded a lot like this, except, it wasn't a prison escape. It was more of an attempt to steal a German bunker; however, that didn't work out so well. We lost many men, and I was a lucky survivor.

Loud, tough banging sounds on the door. It dents in a little, and then deeper, then even more. Finally, after about ten hits, the door falls down. A strong man in a blue suit, covered by army gear, bounds in. He carries another man who looks like he's been through the same thing as me. The strong man lays down the other and runs over to me. He cuts the straps that hold me down, and when I'm out, he helps me up. Then, he smiles, "I am Captain America, here to save the day. This, here," he points down to the man on the ground, who waits for him, "is Bucky Barnes."

Grinning, the weaker man seems almost joyful. He holds out his hand in greeting, "Nice to meet you." I shake his hand weakly, unable to do a proper shake. Neither was he, so it was a very sloppy attempt.

"Your name?" Captain America helps Bucky up. He carries me, since he can tell I've recently gone through the Process.

"Lynn Viala," I manage to murmur. "I used to be in the U.S. Air Force."

Captain America nods, concentrating on running through the door unseen. However, I spot Bucky still smiling at me. His head is sloppily hanging from his neck; yet, so is mine, so I can't blame him. Also, I think it's kinda cute.

"Well, I hope this isn't our last meeting," Captain America places Bucky and me down, behind a barrier to prevent us from getting shot. "Bucky, you're obviously going to come with me. Lynn," he hands me a gun, "this is your gun. You use it to get to the other prisoners. Hop into one of their tanks and they should be able to take you out of here."

Through the corner of my eye, I look at Bucky one last time before I leave. Captain America helps me up and I limp out of the way. As Captain America leaves the area, Bucky stays for a second more and waves to me. Then, he goes too.

_Well, isn't he charming?_ I think, feeling myself blush, even though my face is covered in dirt and ash.

After a few moments of recovery, I run out to the battle. I hide behind barriers, peeking out and shooting down any opponent. Then, I reach the hardest point. As I sit behind this barrier, I can hear the loud booms and crackles of guns and tanks. I look over the corner and spot a group of men, formerly prisoners, shooting down an approaching tank.

Since they need me, I run over to them and help them shoot. "A girl?" I hear a British man laugh. "That's not what I expected to see!"

"Shut up and shoot," I sneer, still firing at the tank. It aims down at me and I see fire erupt from its tip.

My legs feel taped to the ground, but I manage to dive down to try and avoid it. The fire hits the majority of the men, and I am the lucky minor to survive.

Yet, I am my left leg and arm burn. When the smoke clears, I look down at them to see what's wrong.

They're gone. Only an endless amount of blood oozes out to take their place. In pain, I scream out and hope that no tank dares to shoot at me. I've never been good with medical procedures, so that makes this gross, and my stomach hurts from the sight of it.

I hope this is only a nightmare, but it's not. I hope this is a vision, or a side effect to the Process. I hope it's really not happening.

However, I know it is.

I can't handle it.

Slowly, my vision begins to lose its only sight. I feel dizzy and rest my head on the barrier. I was hoping to die a hero. I was hoping to die known for my valor. Yet, no one knows about me. No one knows about my death.

And I'm a girl soldier. No one will care. No one will pay attention. That's just how it is in my time... And I absolutely loathe that fact.

Before my vision and all feelings go away, I feel myself being dragged across the gravel. My leftover of my arm and leg sloppily follow my weak body. _How am I slowly surviving this?_ I think watching the blood trail behind me.


	4. Chapter Three: a New Process

**Chapter Three: the New Process**

_"You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind."_  
-Mahatma Gandhi

* * *

When I wake up, I am chained to another chair. Leaning my head forward, I look down to see something I never expected. My arm and leg are no longer there; however, a strong metal takes its place. Trying not to breath too hard, I look around desperately. _My leg... My arm... What happened to them?!_ I think, struggling to be free. As I do, I fall back on my back. Something is there... Like a metal box.

Suddenly, the chains go off. They open up and allow me access to walk around. Then, the lights go on around me. I am surrounded by mirrors that show myself in a hundred different ways.

I stare into the mirror in front of me. I wear a hospital gown that droops about a foot down from my hips. My hair is awfully tangled; however, one thing is normal. My hazel eyes are still focused, as if they're ready for everything. That is proof that my mind is alright; if my eyes are still alive, then so is my spirit, and I need to keep that up.

Feeling the box with my hands, I turn around to look at it. It's a silver box with slits on the sides of it. I wonder what it does and think of all the possibilities.

Abruptly, before I can even thoroughly think it through, wings sprout out from the slits and stretch out long and wide. They're beautiful, metallic wings; nobody could have made them look better than this.

However, I don't know who did make them like this.

Through a speaker at the corner of the room, I hear a German voice say, "Hello, Miss Viala. Welcome to the Hydra Experimental Facility 23. You are Experiment #197, and the only one who has survived the Airbourne Process. We have installed wings to the back of you to make you accessible to our flight crew, so you can fly and shoot planes high in the sky. We also restored your leg and arm with a new metal that is stronger than any steel and lighter than any other metal. It should feel normal in a few days, because you still have to have time to get used to it."

I blink. I don't remember much of what happened in my life at all. Is that normal?

"Right now, you are most likely to be wondering what happened in your lifetime before. That is normal. Please know that it should slowly come back. However, once we put you through the mind-erasing Process when you are officially ready to go out into the war, you will never look back to what you once did, saw, and were. So, please take the time to treasure your memories during this entire Experiment, and try to stay alive, please. We've never succeeded this far with your type."

"My-my type?" I dare to ask.

"Yes, your type. You are an Airforce pilot, so we classify your type from the others. We make sure that Airforce pilots are given their special ability, which is flying. Then, we make sure the navy gets fins and breathing ability for underwater missions. Finally, the army is given all the weapons training and healing abilities. They are stronger than you, but still are mainly just the same. Now, anymore questions?"

"How many other Experiments are there?"

"Well, you're the 197th Experiment and our most recent Experiment. So, we would normally have 197, but the majority of them died in one of the Processes. We only have eight other cap-" he stops himself from saying captives, and changes it quickly, "Experiments... However, I am not sure how long they will last."

A screen comes down and all the lights go out. When the tiny screen comes on, I see a very large, muscular man. He has dirty, long locks of dark brown hair. He wears a ripped tank top and torn jeans. He's chained up and in a small cell. After he breaths heavily for about a minute, his metal arm punches into the wall and he roars.

"That's Experiment #84," the speaker interrupts the noise. I can still hear it muffled in the background, but the majority of the noise is the speaker. "His name was formerly Johnny Drufto. He's an army man. He's also our longest living Experiment, but our maddest. Soon, we might have to put him to sleep ourselves." A new video shows. One of a skinny man who sits on a bench, talking to himself constantly. "This is Experiment #101. Formerly, his name was Everett Lincoln. He used to be much stronger and larger than this. He was in the army. Also, as you may see from the piles of soup in the corner, he refuses to eat."

Then, more appears. They're all men with the numbers #102, #111, #145, #146, #147, and #180.

"How many Experiments do you get a day?" I wonder.

"Well, we started this Facility about five months ago... We have been getting more people than ever in this month, and we hope that it grows as we go on," the speaker lets out a small cough. "We are trying to get wounded men to join us, since it won't be so hard to keep them hostage. Also, we can install them with metal limbs, very much like yours. Also, if they die, it won't do much, because they were wounded anyways. They would be no use to the Americas or any of the Allied Forces in the war."

I roll my eyes. _What makes these people think they can just run in and take all these people and make them into robots just like that? I know I won't go down without a fight,_ I crack my knuckles. Without hesitation, I stand up and spread my wings to show my hostility and anger, "What if I don't fight?"

"Oh don't worry," the speaker chuckles. "We are erasing your memory, Miss Viala. You will have nothing to not fight for."


	5. Chapter Four: the Captive

**Chapter Four: the Captive**

_"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself."_  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

The days of the Process have been horrible. I've been sent through this wretched serum that begins to slowly erase my memory from birth to current day. So far, I am only at the age of four. Every four weeks, I have to go through this serum. They don't even give me time to remember. I barely remember my birthdays, my mother, or even my preschool.

It's hard, but that's life. I can't leave, nor can I kill myself. Before I try to sleep, they put in this fluid that feeds and quenches me. So, I can't starve or dehydrate myself to death. If I do anything that causes affliction to myself, I am zapped from this little card they inserted in my neck during the first Process.

"How many captives are left?" I murmur to myself, hoping the speaker could hear me.

Then, he says, "What was that?"

"How many captives are left?"

"Well, the eight that you saw, they're all dead except for #146 and #147. But we recently just added twenty Experiments, which all died, except for one. He's #217, our most recent Experiment." The screen comes down and all the lights go off. "His name was formerly James 'Bucky' Barnes. We could use him, since we war best friends with the Captain America, which is a threat to all of us." On the screen, it shows a shirtless man on a stretcher. The scientists and surgeons all work around him carefully. His arm is being installed.

I remember him. I remember him... He's so familiar... _Where do I know him from?_ I watch his dark hair fall into his face as he wakens. When he does, he looks at his new arm and flexes his fingers. A scientist comes near him and his eyes grow grim. He grabs the scientist by the neck and strangles him, but then is put to sleep by a shot.

"Bucky," I say. I do remember him! He and his blue-suited friend helped my escape the captivity in the prison cells.

"You know him?"

It took me a moment to realize that I had just said his name aloud. I lie by shaking my head, "I just repeated his name. I do not know him."

"Well, you are going to meet him," the screen goes up as he talks.

"What do you mean?"

"We decided that the loneliness of the cap- I mean, Experiments, are not the best way to treat them. They could die of depression, which might be why some of our Experiments died. So, you and Bucky will be put into a room to chat and such."

"Will that be a test?" I sneer. Everything is a test here.

"No, we will not have any cameras in the room."

"What about the other Experiments?"

"They won't be able to make it alive through those halls. Now, when Bucky is ready, I will call you through the halls and you will be able to socialize with the new cap- I mean, Experiment. Good day." The speaker clicks off and all the lights go on again. I sigh, resting my head down to try and sleep.

* * *

The call is here. I have to go meet Bucky.

After walking through the halls, they put me into a small room with two chairs. I am seated down in one and chained to it. I look around; no cameras in sight. Maybe the doctor wasn't lying; they may not be listening to Bucky and my conversations... Well, if we even _do _have any conversations.

Moments later, Bucky is in the room. His hair is now long and his eyes are shadowed. He's chained to the seat, still shirtless, but he still has pants on. I lift my eyebrows. I don't know what to say; I barely know him! And he just went through the Process #1 and I don't want to disrespect what should have been his only times of peace.

"No sex," a guard laughs and closes the door. It's just us.

It is the longest time of silence I've had with another person, and the most I ever got to know one. I already knew his name, yet I found out his age by the lively look in his eyes. I found out that he's a captive, like me. We no longer have our names, and we are more known as Experiments/captives, than humans. He's suffering, I'm suffering. We both are going through the Process. He's in the army, since I find no fins or wings. And he's broken, as I am. We relate, but of course, I don't say that, or else I'll sound like a "let's make everything better" person.

Finally, I sigh. He lifts his head shakily at the sound of my heavy breathing and looks back down quickly, as if he did something. I stare at his abs, trying to focus on something else. _Why am I staring there?_ I think, twitching my fingers.

Abruptly, when I am not paying any attention, he asks, "Do I know you from somewhere?" His voice is shaky, and I feel sick. _Did I sound that way?_

"I believe we met during the escape that Captain America led," I blink. "I don't know how long ago that was."

"Were you the pilot that was in that room?" he sounds sort of confused, but almost like he knows. It's confusing me.

"Yes."

"Wasn't your name..." he tries to think, rubbing his metal fingers over his sweaty brows. "Lynn Viala?"

For a moment, I have to try and remember my name. I search my memories. Then, I find it, and he is correct. "Yeah." _I__ wonder how he remembered that._

"I knew I wouldn't forget you," I can't tell if his voice is hostile or gleeful. "That face... It's just unforgettable." _Is he calling me pretty?_ I wonder. _I don't think so... I do not think he knows what he's_ saying.

"And you're Bucky Barnes?"

"Bucky?" he furrows his brows. Then, he nods slowly, "Yes, I think so."

Another moment of silence.

Yet, he breaks it. His voice is afraid as he says, "D-Did you have to go through that- that _thing_?!" His metal finger points to outside the door, in which the direction on where he came from.

"The first Process?" I lift my eyebrows and nod. I show him my metal arm and leg, "I just didn't wake up in the middle of it."

"How long have you been here?"

"Months," I look down. "During the escape, my arm and leg blew off, so I couldn't move. Then, they took me here."

"The escape?" he tries to remember, then he nods when he does, just like when he was trying to remember his name. "That's when we met." He turns over and grumbles, "Dammit! I really was hoping we'd meet... No wonder I was looking for you for a long time. At least you weren't KIA."

_I would rather than than this shit,_ I think, looking at my metal leg.

Finally, I am glad that it goes silent. It goes on for about ten minutes, then the guards come in. "It sounds like nothing is happening," says the one that took Bucky in. "So we will take you now. Say goodbye." He grabs Bucky harshly and shoves him out the door. My guard looks at that and grabs me much more gingerly. He loosens my handcuffs a little when he realizes how tight they were and sighs.

"I'll try not to torture you like he is to that Experiment," he whispers. "I don't like it when people are bullies."

"Then why do you work here?" I snort.

He doesn't answer, but just walks me to my cell. I am put in there, strapped to my chair. They put in the fluids, as if they think I'm going to try and sleep. However, I am not doing any of that. I'm going to sit here and think. Think about Bucky, and his story. That he would never forget my face, or he looked for me after the mission and was worried I was KIA.

Does someone care? Or is this a setup? Or is he just speaking nonsense?


	6. Chapter Five: Training

**Chapter Five: Training **

"I hated every minute of training, but I said, 'Don't quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.'"  
-Muhammad Ali

* * *

Today is the first day of training. Since I am slowly growing into my new wings, arm, and leg, the scientists decided that I was ready for the practice. They send me to a large room. It's made of steel, and near the top, there are windows. They're blurry and not easy to see out of; however, it's actual light that isn't one that has been made.

"Welcome, Experiment #197," the speaker is back. "Today is a basic day of training." A pause follows his quick talk, as if he's expecting me to ask a question or comment. Then, he goes on, "We will put you through a series of tests. You will fight and practice to work with several different things. You will learn to work near water, land, and air. Mainly, we will work on the air. But when we work on land, we will teach you the quick way to use your wings." Two real-life, pixel humans come from out of the steel walls. They are only a hologram, but they look lively.

One throws a grenade and it explodes, causing me to feel electrified. Screaming, I fall to the ground and the people disappear. The speaker makes a clicking noise with his mouth in disapproval, "You must be more prepared than that. Remember: you have wings."

A gun comes down from the top of the steel room. It falls right into my hands. It feels like a real gun; however, when I shoot, the bullets are pixelated. I put down the gun, looking up at the air. There's a lot of space. I can probably fly high to escape the grenade's blow, then come back down to shoot them. It of course may take some practice; but I can do it if I try hard enough.

The pixel men come out again, this time more than before. There are five from each four walls; so there is twenty men all at once. One throws a grenade from my left, and I spread out my wings and fly. Just as I am in the air, the grenade blows up. I feel a little electricity; therefore, not enough to completely harm me.

While in the air, I watch as pixel bullets whiz just a little past me. I dive down closer to the men and fire. My bullets strike down four of the men, but the others manage to escape my fire. So, I land, shooting again. _This isn't too hard,_ I think, firing down the others.

Finally, there is only one left. As I try to shoot him, a barrier pops up out of nowhere and protects him. I widen my eyes. _Unfair!_ I think angrily, trying to fire behind the barrier. However, the man slides around in the perfect places to stop my fire from harming him. Angry, I flap my wings into the air and aim down at him. He is unprepared and tries to fire at me. My bullet hits him square in the head, while his hits me in my metal leg.

Harshly, I hit the floor. My bones ache and the electricity spread through my body, since it is a metal substance. "Ah," I let out a strange hiss in agony.

"Test One complete," the scientist says. "You got lucky. If that were a real bullet, it still would have been fine. But it was close to your waist, and you can't risk that."

"Is my training done?" I ask, practically begging for it to be done in my brain.

"Do you want to be weak?"

I don't answer. I want to be done; however, I can't admit to defeat. That would be cowardly.

Again, he asks, "Do you want to be weak?"

Sighing, I shake my head. "Let's go on," I ready for the next wave.

That day, I did five other tests, until finally I was finished. They used airships against me, that came by surprise. Also, paratroopers made surprise attacks that I had no idea about.

I can't tell if this is unfair, or life. I think it's both. Life is unfair.

Life sucks.


	7. Chapter Six: Meeting Again

**Chapter Six: Meeting Again**

_"I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath."_  
― Lisa Kleypas, _Again the Magic_

* * *

**Bucky's POV**

I sit in the mirrored room, thinking about Lynn. She is now the only thing I ever have in my mind. There is no one else I see; except for a few rough guards, but I don't care for them.

I can't tell if I love her, or if it's just happiness that there is someone else in this captivity other than me. I don't know what I want; for that's for my heart to decide.

Someone knocks on the door. Today we're meeting again; in the same room, we will try to "communicate".

Before I have time to say yes, the guard comes in. He puts on the usual handcuffs and shoves me out of the room. I'm stronger than him, but I can't fight back. I am not so weak anymore, but why don't I?

In the room, I spot Lynn sitting there. I notice that the handcuffs aren't really on her; however, she acts like they are. Once I am handcuffed to the chair and the door is closed, Lynn gets out of her non-handcuffs and pulls out a key. "My guard said we can't communicate as well in handcuffs," she smiles a little, but frowns again as she unlocks my chains.

"He trusts you?" I get worried. Why am I worried that a guard might like her? I shouldn't care.

She doesn't answer. She sits there and waits for me to change the subject or something. She's so quiet, I wonder. Usually, before these days, I liked the loud bars and singing men; however, now, I find quiet soothing to me. Maybe because I'm used to it... Or the serum made me different.

"How are you?" I ask. It is the stupidest thing I've ever said throughout this whole captivity thing. I want to slap myself in the face; however, I don't want to look like a complete idiot in front of her. I have to just stick with my guts, and with what I said.

"Horrible," she looks away. "I'm in captivity, used for an experiment by a killer group that's continuing to erase my memory... I'm lonely, I'm forgetting, and I'm hurting."

I wonder. I wonder if she's dying, or just hurting. I don't ask, since it might offend her.

Don't die, I think, clenching my metal fist in hopes of her survival.

"But, unfortunately, I'm not dying," she adds.

"Unfortunately?" I tilt my head to the side.

"I would rather die than be here; but everything I try, they save me. They keep me alive. They like my suffering; and they want me to 'endure' it." Standing up, she wanders around the small room, a pacing movement in her small walk. "I want to die! I don't care how; just not like this. I'll jump off a cliff, I'll suffocate, I'll drown, I'll get shot... I'll do whatever to fall from this misery."

"So do you think you'll die here?" I blurt out. The words slip from my like water from a bucket.

"No," she honestly answers, sitting back down on her metal chair. "I know I am going to survive. I know I am going to lose my memories. I know I won't be able to have family or friends; I'll just be a murderer. Someone who breaks hearts. Someone who destroys the lives of others, just because mine was stolen from me."

"Don't think that-" I try to sooth her, but her cold, grim look tells me to shut up. Damn.

"I'm damned for life," she glances at the floor.

I should have never asked that question, I clutch the leg of the chair. She watches my hand do so and sighs, "So how are you?"

"Probably same as you, just a little less descriptive."

Smirking, she lets out a gentle laugh. I am glad to hear her laugh and see her smile. I lean back on the back of my chair and close my eyes. I am tired; and I am just glad to be with someone now.

"What were you before this?" she asks. "I knew you were Bucky, friend of Captain America; however, I don't know your entire story."

"Well, I don't remember much, honestly," I pull back some of my drooping hair behind my ear. "I remember... I was a great sniper. I always saved Cap's life with a strong shot." Smiling, I remember that I was well known for those shots, and people celebrated with me when I saved their life. Then, I remember the Cap. Before he was strong, he was a weak man. It made me chuckle at night a little when I compared the two; however, back then, I was his best pal. I ignored his skimpy nature and weak behavior. I admired his valor to stand up to bullies. He was honestly my inspiration, even before he was mighty.

As I stare down, in the corner of my eye, I see Lynn leaning forward and looking for my eyes. When I look back at her, she sits back up again and crosses her arms. "Is something on your mind?" she wonders, tilting her head to the side, as if she is expecting to hear about a "special" girl in my life or something. "I'd like to hear."

"Just the Cap," I smirk a little. "Before he was strong, he was among the weakest people I've ever seen. It was absolutely pathetic, but I adored his bravery."

"Bravery?" Lynn lifts a curious eyebrow. "How could someone so small show bravery?" She knows he showed it, but this is a test. To see if I knew what bravery and valor are.

"He would stand up to any bully. Even though he couldn't, he kept fighting. Once he was punched, he didn't run or die down; he just got back up and held his chin high. Usually, he got in fights with people that challenged the authority of men in service, or when women were disrespected. He was an honest, just man. Then, he got a little too ahead of himself when he was stronger, getting pictures and shows done... It was wretched."

"But wasn't he a hero?"

"He is. Yet, before, he didn't know how to be a hero without all the celebrity perks."

"Ah, I see," she smiles at me. Then, she nods slowly, yawning. "That's a hard one."

"What is?"

"Knowing how to be a hero... Especially when you're getting popular."

"Have you experienced it?"

"No, but I surely know from what I've been told," her eyes are daring, courageous. I wonder, Has she ever been a hero? Then, someone knocks on the door and announces that we have one minute left to talk.

We use this time wisely, handcuffing each other back to our seats. Once we are strapped down, the guards come in at the perfect time and take us away from each other.

Already, I miss her. Her face, her eyes, her smile, her laugh, her voice, her hair... This list goes on forever.

A tiny bit of happy sensation fills my heart; however, I can't be sure if it's love or friendship or a cure to my loneliness. Whatever it is, I know won't last long here, from neither of us.


	8. Chapter Seven: Red Skull

**Chapter Seven: Red Skull **

_"The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything."_  
-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

**Lynn's POV **

This morning, I had woken up not knowing my name or who I was. I knew where I was and what I was doing; however, I couldn't quite catch the majority of my past or even my own name. I lived more in the present; I remembered Bucky and the speaker, my wings and my metal leg and arm. But, I couldn't find any crack of my past left in my brain. I searched desperately, for what felt like a long time, for my name.

Finally, after sobbing for thirty minutes, it came to me. My name is Lynn Viala. I was formerly a U.S. pilot for the Air Force.

Then, I only got a quick glimpse at the past before. I knew what got me here and how my plane crashed; yet, that was the only thing. My other memories were just out of reach from my hand. I tried to grab them, but they were a few feet away. It drove me nearly mad, but I learned to be calm over these things.

It's a sad thing, living here...

I hate it.

Personally, I won't even refer it to as "living" but as "painfully surviving". Most of the time, I am lonely. I only get to see Bucky once a week, and only for an hour. It's great seeing him; however, we both are painfully surviving, so we have no stories to tell. Our past has left us in the dust, not knowing any of what we've done. So, we barely have anything to say, except for what is happening to us here.

But who wants to talk about that shit?

Surely not me, and I am sure he wouldn't either.

As I sit in the chair, I hear a shudder from above. The speaker clicks and says, "Hydra leader will be meeting you today. His name is Red Skull."

_Red Skull... Red Skull..._ I narrow my eyes to small slits and try to recall the name. Only a little of it sounds familiar, since I might have heard it back in the Air Force and maybe a few times here; however, I can't quite find it.

"He will be watching your Final Serum."

_The Final Serum,_ my heart nearly stops, then rapidly begins to thud against my chest. _No..._ I think angrily, tears forming in my dry eyes. _I can't lose my memories! I won't let them take it!_ My heart begs for mercy, but I know that they won't be able to hear the silent cries. Even if they did, they would ignore it.

"So, wait here," the speaker clicks off after his last words.

_Where else can I go?_ I want to say aloud, but I might get the painful, electric shock.

As the minutes pass by, I have more time to think of the pain. I have more time to think of the misery that I will encounter in the future. So, the more time, the more I think. The more I think, the worse I feel.

Finally, I look over right at the time that my guard enters the room. He stands off to the side, watching me through the corner of his eye. After him, a man in all black walks in. He has a hideous red face with barely a nose, and it looks like his skin was just ripped off.

"I am Red Skull," he says in the normal German accent that most of these men have, "leader of Hydra."

I don't reply. This man doesn't deserve a formal greeting from me.

After his quick introduction, the guard unstraps me and holds my hands behind my back. Red Skull gestures him to follow him out the door. So, I feel myself being dragged after the guard. Luckily, he is much more gentle than he could be. If he was Bucky's guard, I would be shoved to the side and kicked if I didn't move fast enough. But since this is mine, he gingerly helps me through and patiently waits for me to gain strength when I lose it. So, I secretly thank him with a quick glance of gratitude.

"You don't have to wait for her," Red Skull tells him, once he notices his kindness. "The Serum is already going to hurt her enough to forget about this."

The guard nods, but only goes a little faster.

Unfortunately, I didn't die on the way to the Serum Chambers. We reach the steel door and Red Skull unlocks it, opening it for the guard. "Ladies first," there is a slight taunt in Red Skull's malicious voice. I don't do anything, since I am used to the torture and affliction of physical and mental taunts.

The guard, with a slight hesitation, brings me through the door. He slowly straps me to the chair. I see Red Skull enter the watching area, which is to the side. Since it is sound proof, I am free to say anything I want. So, I whisper through gritted teeth, "Someone shit on him."

Snickering, the guard smiles down at me and finishes off the straps. He murmurs, "I'll try to go easy on you."

"But if I remember, even a little, they'll kill-"

"I won't let them," he kisses me on the lips. I don't expect it, so I jump a little, startled. Then, I relax and let it go through. Just as he lets go, Bucky is thrown onto the wall of the room by his own guard. He looks at the guard, who is awfully close to my face, and sneers a little as he is taken to his chair.

"What?!" I gasp, trying to sit up, but being brought down by the thick straps. "No!"

"We found a way to make him forget, even though he hasn't been through all the Serums just yet," Red Skull speaks as Bucky and my guards leave the area. "So, we decided to let you two forget together." Luckily, I see my guard is sat at the controls. He gives me one last look, then turns to work on me. Red Skull goes on, "Now, you will forget your life. You won't even remember your names." He waves, smirking, "Have a good future, captives."

"Sir, they are ready for the Process," I hear my guard say shakily.

"Then go," Red Skull crosses his arms.

I look over at Bucky, who stares at me with tears in his powerful, blue eyes. He reaches out his metal arm for me, but doesn't go very far. He cries, "I found out that I love you, Lynn."

My heart stops. Love? I almost forgot about that.

"I can't lose you," he cries out. "I know you'll forget about this, but I need you to know that. At least now."

Then, before I can say that I feel the same, I feel an unbearable pain enclose over my face. my mind goes blank and all I feel is the pain. The pain of something I will never forget. But, I don't remember anything else. The pain takes over, over my entire mind. The last thing I remember is Bucky, then that slowly goes away into the blackness of forgetfulness.

Gone.


	9. Chapter Eight: Forget

**Chapter Eight: Forget**

_"If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him." _  
― Paulo Coelho, _By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept_

* * *

I wake up on the cold floor. I don't know who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. It's dimly lit in the room I am in, so it's impossible to see around me. But in the background, I hear a voice. A cold voice that calls out, "Welcome, Flying Soldier."

I just sit there. My body is freezing, and I am starving. I _feel _like I've _slept forever_.

A tall, lean man steps out of the darkness. He was the one that called me "Flying Soldier". Who the hell is the Flying Soldier? Who the hell am _I_?

He kneels down in front of me, his scarred face wrinkly. Smirking, he holds out a hand in gesture of a greeting. Slowly, I reach out my metal hand to shake it; however, once I realize I might be stepping into something bad, I pull it back, narrowing my eyes. Now chuckling menacingly, he stands back up and walks quietly among the cold floor. "Who are you?" he asks. I can tell this is a test with a specific answer.

I don't know what to say. I don't know who I am. So, I reply shakily, speaking for the first time in what felt like _forever,_ "I don't know."

"What were you before this?"

"I don't know."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know."

"What happened to you before this?"

Frustrated, I spit, clenching my teeth, "I. Don't. Know."

"Good," he kneels back down in the same spot. "You're the Flying Soldier, with wings. You had no life before this and you live in a cell. Soon, you will be set free to go out and live as an assassin. You are in the year of 2014, and you are to destroy everyone that you are told to. You have wings; I know you can use them. You have a metal arm and leg; you've had them before. Do you feel familiar with them?"

I nod. There's something I remember to do. I stand up, move my arm a little, flexing it. I let out my wings, feeling the freedom that followed it. I begin to walk, expressing to him that I can use my leg, and I _will _use it correctly.

"Good," he grins, chuckling. "Now, we can get started."


	10. Chapter Nine: Who's Bucky?

**Chapter Nine: Who's Bucky? **

_"Love is so short, forgetting is so long."_  
-Pablo Neruda

* * *

After a long time of inspection, I am let go. The lean man that I met before is still with me, and I see a pistol in his pocket. _He must think I am going to kill him or something,_ I roll my eyes as I think. _Let me tell you this, I'm too tired, hungry, and weak for that, bud._

Turning around, he says, "I need you to do an assessment for me, to tell which of you is better. There's a man out there with a metal arm; he's very much like you, and is very intimidating to your success and progress." His eyes glow maliciously, and I can tell he's hiding something. Yet, what do I know? I don't even remember my life before this. Then, he brings me out of my thoughts as he adds, "You must destroy him. He will be meeting you at the town square at 4:30 PM. Don't be late."

He hands me a strange device with has the time at the top and a line that must lead me somewhere. Gazing at it for a while, I feel the odd urge to crush it. I have no idea what the hell this is.

"Oh, this is a GPS, by the way," he stumbles over. "It leads you to where you're going. See?" He runs his old finger across the red line on the screen. "Now, you have forty minutes. I insist you get going, eh?"

Nodding, I spread out my wings and get ready to take off. Before I do, he silently hands me a pistol. "Don't use it right away," he whispers, giving me a small knife as well.

Once he's done with that, I dart up into the air. As I move, the arrow on the screen moves. Wherever I go, it follows.

So, I begin to follow what would be the red line. I zoom through the air, feeling the wind buffet on my face. It blows through my hair, which I was lucky to brush before I got out here.

The clouds above create pictures, almost like paintings in the blue sky. It's absolutely beautiful; it satisfies me. It makes me feel alive again, like a better person.

After what felt like forty minutes, I reach the town square. Innocent people walk around, doing their normal day jobs. So, I have to ignore them during this fight, just so I can get this mission over with.

I flap down to the ground, holding out my pistol to show them to back off. Luckily, to my advantage, they do. When they're all gone, I put my pistol back in its place and wait for the other man.

I sit on a strange, metal chair in front of a place that is entitled "Tijuana Flats". I wonder what's in it, and I wonder if it is soon a target that I must go for. However, I may just be being silly; I need to focus on the mission that's in my grasp now, and not the ones to come in my path for the future of my assassinating life. _That sounds like a lot of the same shit,_ I think angrily, putting my feet up on the table. _I don't know if I wanna _just _do that._

Suddenly, I hear someone land on the ground, in the center of the town square. I get up, spreading out my wings and holding my knife tightly. Slowly, I approach where the sound came from.

I realize what I am wearing just then; unlike when I woke up, I am not wearing a small hospital gown. I'm wearing a black vest and mask, with tight black pants that make my legs feel weird. Also, I have thick boots that protect my soft leg from being injured by any fire or hostile thing on the floor.

Seconds after I get closer, a man pops up from nowhere and lands on top of me. He has long locks of dark hair and his eyes are shadowed by some type of ash or something. He wears thick goggles that hide the majority of his face from my sight.

We tumble on the thick concrete floor for a while, throwing punches at each other. Once we stop, I am on the top and he hauls me off, growling. I pull out my knife and flex my strong, metal wings. "Back off!" I tell him, twirling my neck around, listening to the crack.

"You back off, bitch," his voice is very familiar, but the words sting like hell. They shouldn't, but they do.

He pulls out a submachine gun and fires it at me rapidly. Shocked, I zoom into the air, quickly darting each and every bullet fired at me. _"Don't use it right away," _I remember the lean man saying at the facility. _This isn't right away,_ I think, carefully bringing out the pistol. _I think I can use it now._

Quickly, I rush to the floor and land. He seemed to have run out of bullets, since he tosses the gun out of his hands. I hold out my pistol, aiming it at his head, where it hurts the most.

I hear soft chuckling through his mask and he pulls off his goggles slowly. He has strong blue eyes, which almost feel... _familiar_. Yet, I have to ignore them. I have no time to look back in my time before this; I have to keep fighting him and I have to _win._ Then, he pulls off his mask, exposing a strong jawline with tads of a beard on him. He moves his lips a little, seeming glad that he now has space to move them. He balls his fists and says, "This will be a hand war. No guns. No knives. Just us fighting each other."

Irritated, I put my pistol back in my pocket. I am disappointed that I cannot use any of my weapons, so I put my wings back in the small box they are usually contained in. Then, I hold out my fists and say, "Deal."

Right as I say it, he jumps onto me. We tumble again and again, until I finally get to pin him down. He punches me in the face, causing me to fly back and ram into a steel monster, also known as a car. When I get up, he's charging at me again. So, I twirl to the side, causing him to run into the car and injure himself.

Snickering, I pull his head out from the car and gaze at the dent he made. _Big head,_ I think, pinning him to a wall. I punch him in the face, revenge for him doing that to me earlier. He shakes, holding my hand that chokes him. "Take off your mask and goggles," he orders strictly. "Take them off! It's not fair. It's a defense for you, and I don't have mine on!"

Extremely angry, I pull off my mask slowly. Then, the goggles follow. My face is exposed to him, facing him.

His face completely changes. His breath stops flowing and he gasps. "Lynn..." tears form in his blue eyes and he struggles to be free. I don't loosen my grip. This is a trick; I know it.

"Lynn! It's Bucky!" he gently taps my leg with his, pleading to be free. "We lived in the cell for-"

"Who the hell is Bucky? And who is Lynn?" I feel my grip loosen, and I try not to, but I can't help it. This man- I believe- is speaking nonsense.

* * *

**A/N: Yay this is my second chapter this morning! I can't believe I wrote TWO chapters for this story in one morning! Well, I guess the one before was kinda short... But oh well. This chapter is good!**

**So, please, review! I can take mean, true reviews and I also like compliments on my story. Even say what you think about it so far! :D I'd love to hear.**

**-_Anonymous Dream_**


	11. Chapter Ten: Remember Me, Please

**Chapter Eleven: Remember me, please **

_"The crime of loving is forgetting." _  
-Maurice Chevalier

* * *

**Bucky's POV**

It hurts to see her forget me. It hurts to watch her try to kill me, when we should be remembering so much. Pain clouds my head, and I feel hurt to see that she doesn't even try to remember. It hurts to stand back and fight with only words, when I should be literally fighting. But, I cannot hurt her. I cannot hurt my love. I cannot do anything bad to her. If I hurt her, I will be killing myself. I can't do that. I am already ashamed with my former approaches; I hate how I punched her, how I kicked her. I hate that I even attacked her, or even fell for these orders.

I'm a fool.

"Lynn," I speak through a hushed voice, "remember me. Remember me, please. I loved you... I _love _you and will always love you. I won't forget you ever again; as long as you remember who I am, I will remember. Just... don't forget me. Please."

Her eyes are full of confusion, and I know she doesn't remember. My heart anxiously yearns for her to understand, wails for her love.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she closes her eyes, tears spilling out. I hate seeing her cry, even if she doesn't know who the hell I am. I can't watch her in pain; it kills me. "I am the Flying Soldier. I have no life, other than this. You can't lie to me and make me new." Suddenly, her grip tightens and I am choking again. I am dying; she's killing me mentally and physically.

Sighing, I know there is only one thing left to do. I have to, first, find a way from her grip; then, I kiss her. I need to _kiss _her.

When she least expects it, I wrench her arm, hating to do so. She screams out in pain and agony, and I close my ears my closing my eyes. Once she is stunned, I pull her up and kiss her. Her soft lips clench onto my, her body growing unusually tense. Then, it relaxes.

Through our kiss, she murmurs, "Bucky..."

"Lynn," I hold her hands, pulling her close to my body. I feel her coldness, feeling her loneliness. It is finally filled, filled with me. I took over her loneliness; I brought back her memories. This beautiful woman is now back to who she really is. We're both free from the imaginary grudge that the Hydra group drew for us. We are able to love.

"I-I couldn't remember..." she says as we let go of the kiss. "I... I am so sorry."

I pull back her hair, lightly putting my finger on her lips. "Sh," I gently whisper. I look around as my finger is on her lips, gazing at the area. No one is around us; however, I know that the Hydra will soon be here to pickup any bodies they think they will find. So, I tell her, "We must leave this place. Come with me," I don't know where I am going, but I know I'll find a way.

We both run out of the way. As we run, she spreads out her wings, grabs me, and says with a smirk, "Hold on."

Then, we fly into the air. She's gliding so smoothly and quickly all at once; it makes me very impressed.

Finally, we reach an empty apartment. On the front, it has the sign, which is covered by a large poster that claims:

THIS APARTMENT IS NO LONGER OPEN.

NO TRESPASSING.

Smiling, we enter the gates, holding hands. Her left, metal arm squeezes my right, metal arm. We enter an apartment building, closing the door behind us. I turn on a light, grateful it even works in this old building. There are two queen-sized beds, with dirty, white mattresses. The place is dusty, but isn't _too _bad. There's a couch, a broken television, and a desk with a spinning, black leather office chair.

"Better than nothing," Lynn says, sitting down on one of the white beds. I sit next to her, holding her jaw with my actual hand that isn't metal. I feel her soft, tender skin; I feel her thigh with my other metal hand, massaging it a little.

Smiling, she moves my hand from her thigh and whispers, "Not now."

She realizes my hint quickly, and I give her a tight smile. _She knows me well,_ I think, falling back onto the bed.

"I hate this enclosed space," she frowns, standing up on the bed. Since the ceiling is low, she touches the roof with her metal arm. Then, she says, "Could we maybe blow it up?"

"And open it up to the sky?" I lift my eyebrows.

"Yeah."

"Why not?" I grin at her and fire my gun at the top. We both dive to the side to avoid collision with the falling roof. With my metal arm, I easily move of the parts of the ceiling and jump back onto the bed. She joins me, laying down at my side. I feel her cold skin touch my warm skin, glad to feel it there. It's helpful, loving, and kind.

Now, the sky is open to us. Dusk light peeks over the clouds, causing a pink-purple color to fill the bright sky.

"You know, Bucky," she interrupts my fascination with the color, "I never got to tell you something."

"What's that?" I look at her face. She's so beautiful.

"I love you too."

* * *

**AWWWWW! Three chapters in one morning! YAY ME! Well, that's all for today. So, please review and tell me what you think! Thanks!**

**-_Anonymous Dream__  
_**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Discovering Death

**Chapter Eleven: Discovering Death **

_"I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens." _  
― Woody Allen

* * *

For what felt like an infinity, we lay there for several hours, gazing into the stars that soon shown in the night sky. We talk about our pains, sufferings. We express our feelings and our hearts' deepest desires. We both are very alike; I enjoy that.

Soon, I hear a rumbling in the throat. I glance over at her face and see her asleep, nice and sound. This is probably the most comfortable sleep she's ever gotten, and I am extremely grateful for this time, to watch her be in peace for once. So, I stroke my fingers across her actual arm with actual skin, then kiss her on the forehead, hoping her dreams feel my gentle caress. Then, I rest my head and sleep myself.

* * *

**Lynn's POV**

Morning came to us, the sun brightly shining over the broken ceiling. However, we had not been woken by that; we have been woken by the loud crash from outside. It's an explosion that once sounded like something in my past. As I think of my past and that explosion noise, I remember a plane crashing and my feet landing on enemy territory. _Did I do that? Or is that just an illusion?_ I wonder, trying to grasp the memory again; however, it's gone.

"What was that?" Bucky quietly says, standing up on the floor. He runs to the door and looks through the peephole. Gasping, he backs up. "Run."

"You mean fly?" I take out my wings and get ready to fly. But, instead of nodding and holding onto me to fly, he shakes his head and grabs my arm.

"No! Run!" he takes me out the back window and we both are falling from the second story. I don't know about him, but I can't survive falls like this; at least, that's what I believe about myself.

Luckily, he holds me close. We land onto the floor and he doesn't seem effected at all. On the other hand, I am a little shaken, but not injured.

Instead of letting me down to run with him, he runs himself, still holding me. As we run, he orders, "Look and see what that explosion was." He doesn't look at me or anything; he just runs.

Nodding, I stare back at behind us. Fire burns from the apartment that we once were in. We probably could have survived the fire; however, I don't know if we would have been safe from _what _caused that fire. Above our apartment, a plane practically bombs the apartment, ignoring the fact that we may have been in there. _But wait..._ I think. _What if they were _trying _to hurt us? How did they know we were in there?_

"It's a bomber," I say. "Do you think they were trying to hurt us?"

"Possibly," he pants, still running at full speed.

"We just can't let them get away!"

"We have to."

"No, we can't," I fly off of him, landing on my feet after. Now, we face each other, almost like the day we fought; however, this time, he's trying to prevent me dying from a risky idea. Sighing, I say, "I have to fight. These- er- people are probably going to be after us for a while. I need to at least see what they're trying to do, then I'll destroy them."

"What if they destroy you?" His eyes are serious, concerned. He gazes into my eyes for a long time, holding his stare.

Then, I let out a sniff of disagreement, "How could they?"

Before his next protest, I lift off. The sun boils on my skin, but the intense warmth feels nice. I let the feeling surge through my blood like adrenaline, powering me for the attack on whatever tried to destroy us with bombs and fire.

I land on the ship, banging at the window until it breaks. I fall through with it, closing my wings so I can make it through without being stopped. When I'm in, I take out my wings and ready my pistol.

It's a large, steel ship. It carries lots of guards and other men that are possibly either scientists or pilots. One man is the lean man that I met before, who tried to get me to kill Bucky. Because of that, I have a large hatred for him. My love was nearly killed by me, led by this- man. I almost destroyed my only sanity because of his malicious ways.

He takes a sip of some white wine and snorts, "Hail Hydra."

Behind him, the soldiers lift up two hands in the way that Hitler once did, except with two. "Hail Hydra!" they repeat in an orderly fashion.

Narrowing my eyes, I aim my pistol at the man's chest. None of the soldiers react to this, as if they were expecting this and already have a plan. _Wait... What if they_ do_?_ I think, clenching the pistol a little tighter as I worry. _As long as Bucky is safe, I'm alright. It's okay if I die. He just _needs _to survive._

"I haven't quite introduced myself, yet," the man chuckles. "I am Alexander Pierce, one of the main leaders of Hydra and S.H.I.E.D. They have no idea this is really happening yet, but trust me, they will soon." He goes on with his chuckling and drinking. He's not drunk, just crazy. "Anyways, so what do you think that pistol will do to me?"

I look down at the pistol. This powerful weapon can kill a man, like him, with one shot. And with one shot to the head, which I am aiming at, it can immediately cause brain damage, in case he survives. Of course, surviving that is on a rare, not-so-lucky occasion.

Chuckling more, he puts down his wine and puts his hands behind his back, "I have something you may want to keep from getting hurt. And by doing that, you mustn't shoot me."

Shakily, I put down the gun. Then, two guards bring out Bucky. He's strapped to metal chains that keep him stuck. He gazes up at me.

"We set him under a temporary illusion," Pierce plays with the top of his wine glass, not noticing my cries of pain as the guards hold my back from trying to save Bucky. They are unusually strong; it's not fair. _My Bucky... Why?_ I angrily try to tear free, but it shocks me and I fall. "He saw you and saw your past. However, we controlled his every action. We even managed to control his thoughts, his feelings. Now, he doesn't feel anything towards you." He picks up his wine glass and throws it at me. I am hit on the head, and it burns as glass shatters. Maliciously laughing, he says, "Do you really think we'd send you out there without anyone watching your fight?"

Trying to ignore Pierce, I look over at Bucky and cry out, "Bucky! Bucky, please! Don't you remember me? Don't you? I'm Lynn! Please, remember me! I remembered you! This isn't fair!"

Bucky just stares down at me with cold, blue eyes. They are soulless, hurting my every thought and dream of the future.

Where is my Bucky?


End file.
